My Mother's Eyes
by Black Hawk
Summary: WWII, Germany.
1. Default Chapter

He felt her warm, callosued hands on his face as she hugged him to her breast

Title: My Mother's Eyes

Author: Duma

Disclaimer: The recognizable ER characters belong to Warner Brothers and their Associates. The rest are mine. I am in no way receiving money from this piece of writing- It's just a great way to get feedback while you're trying to become a good writer! So don't sue me... like everyone else I have nothing important to others materially. Unless you count money as being important, and let's face it.... that's just sad... ;)

Archive: Anywhere as long as you ask ;) And if you want to use any of my characters in your story, just ask, too!

Category: DM/LK/JMC/JC/…Cast

Spoilers: None

Summary: Hopefully this will be the first of a series where we explore the different lives the ER characters could have lived and follow them through history.

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Please, oh please! I need anything and everything and will love you dearly if you reply, even if it is only one sentence... or one word! I need all I can get! 

**My Mother's Eyes**

He felt her warm, callused hands on his face as she hugged him to her breast. 

"My little boy." 

He grinned as he pulled away from his grandmother's embrace. She smelled the flowers he'd given her.

"David! Come and see! You're father's coming home!" The nine-year-old raced to his mother's side and slipped his hand in hers. He felt the ocean breeze toss her dress against his bare legs. They slowly made their way down the beaten path in the brightness just before sunset. They paused a few feet away from the cliff edge. Dave mimicked his mother as he watched her shield her eyes and look over the vast expanse of sea below them and into the sunset. He could just make out his father's ship pulling into harbor against the glare of the shining sea. 

"Papa!" he yelled, not knowing that his father couldn't hear him. 

"Let's go and greet him." Almost before she finished Dave started to run back up the path to their small house and beautiful garden. 

Gabriella's smile radiated warmth as she watched her son fill with joy as her heart did at the sight of his father's ship. 

The explosion of mortar threw mud onto his face as he was shocked back into reality. The shouts around him suddenly became audible as his mind was pulled back into the present. He heard the whistling of another shell and ducked back down against the side of the trench. 

He felt his stomach tighten as he watched bodies in the distance thrown into the air from the explosion. 

"Hey. Hey!" Someone tugged on his arm but he couldn't pull his eyes away from the sight of men crawling on the ground, screaming out in pain, begging for some protective force to engulf them as they lay in the throes of death. 

He covered his eyes as another loud explosion sent dirt into the air. The machine gun nearest him came to life and began rapidly firing. He looked to his left and saw his company moving out, doubled over, heading down the trench. He moved to his hands and knees to get up to follow when a much closer explosion threw him against the other side of the trench and was pelted with dirt. He didn't have time to cover his eyes and now wiped at them, cleaning the sand away. 

"You alright?" someone gripped his shoulder. Dave blinked up at a pale face with sapphire blue eyes. "Come on," the man tugged at Dave. He placed his hand on the lip of the trench to get up and felt something slimy. He looked up to see a human arm hanging over the side. Realizing what he held onto Dave quickly threw it aside, only to reveal that it was only a human arm. Disgusted and panic-stricken he stepped back into someone as another explosion shook the ground. 

"Watch where you're going!" the man spat in German and shoved Dave off him roughly as he continued on his way. 

The same blue-eyed man as before broke Dave's fall. The man laughed. "Are you a fresh-face or what?" Dave didn't understand what the man meant. Sensing this, the man's smile faded. "Is this the first time you've seen action?" 

"A-almost. We were hit in the trucks that brought us here by American airplanes, but-" 

"Americans!" The man spat on the ground. "Damned yanks are everywhere!" Seeing that his comrade didn't share in his disdain the man extended his hand. "I'm Lieutenant Luka Kovac. 74th of Berlin." 

Dave shook his hand. "Infantry David Malucci." 

Luka watched as the trench caved in in the direction their company had moved out. "Well then, David Malucci, let's get the hell out of here." The young Italian followed the taller man to what he hoped was shelter. 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N : Hey guys! I really hope you like this story! I know I should be updating "Running Ghost" before I start writing another fic, but I just have to get this one out there while I still want to write it! Thank you all so much for the suport you've shown me... you're the reason I keep writing! Love you guys!  
  
  
"Look at the wide-eyed little one. Bet he's not even old enough to shave."   
"I'll bet his mother ain't, either! Damn Italians!" The German soldiers laughed as they passed around vodka, knowing that David Malucci couldn't understand a word they said.   
Luka sat near Dave with his head bowed, resting.   
"Here boy! Take a drink!" The intoxicated soldier pushed the bottle into Dave's face. Although he may not have understood what the German soldiers were saying, it was clear that they were mocking him. Dave tried his best to ignore the men. He knew what it was like to be teased.   
"What's the matter? Not man enough to drink?!" The German laughed and held the bottle closer to Dave's face as his friends behind him laughed hysterically. Encouraged, the soldier continued with what he thought were his humorous antics.  
"Come on, say something!" Dave tried not to look at him. His breath reeked with alcohol. "Did your dirty whore of a mother breed you in a gutter?!" The man didn't get a chance to laugh at his own obscene joke as Luka quickly reached out and grabbed his arm that held the vodka. The drunken soldier turned to face him. Luka's face was hard as stone.   
"Leave. Him. Alone."   
"Or what? You'll kill me? You'd hurt a comrade for having fun with a damn wop? You and I both know the only reason fuhrer shipped them Italians here was to die in masses while we cover our backs!" Luka grabbed the bottle and quickly smashed it against the wall, causing Dave, who had been watching attentively, to jump slightly. He looked to Luka who kept his tight grip on the soldier's arm a moment as they continued to lock eyes before letting go and slowly leaning back against the wall of the abandoned livery.   
The soldier silently scuffled back to his friends, muttering curses in German.   
Dave continued to watch the now calm Luka. "Why did you do that?" he asked in Italian.   
"Do what?" Luka's gaze was fas fixed on a bombed out portion of the stone wall.   
"Defend me."   
Luka smiled. "How do you know I was defending you? You don't speak German."  
Dave chuckled and looked down as there was a pause between them.   
"Because of what he said..." Luka broke the silence. "Because, he thinks that he is better than us just because he is German."   
"Better than us?"   
Luka smiled faintly. "I am Croatian. I was born and raised there. It is my country, my heart... I miss it."   
"Then, why are you in the German army? And how did you learn Italian?"   
Luka's smile broadened. "I know many languages. Italian, German, French, English... Croatian."   
Dave smiled. "I wish I knew so many."   
"Maybe, someday, if you practice. I can teach you some." Dave smiled and glanced at their superior officer who sat in a dark corner and had watched the earlier dispute without interest. He now hummed a patriotic German song to himself and rocked back and forth. Luka also watched, then sadly tore his eyes away. "I first came to Germany to hear the fuhrer, Adolf Hitler, speak. He had many interesting things to say and ideas to share. It made much sense, and I listened to him. He inspired me, and I believed in the dream of a better Germany, and therefore a better world. I joined his army," he gazed out of the shell hole once more, his eyes distant. Dave struggled to understand what he was talking about. Nothing in his short life had prepared him for war, and he sensed that it must be the same with the man before him. "I've done terrible things, David. Terrible things. And the worst part is... I don't believe anymore. All I see is death and despair when we are supposed to be helping better the world... I can't believe anymore. Do you understand what I mean?"   
Dave was silent, drawing aimless shapes in the dirt with a stick. Luka waited for a response. "Luka?" When Dave finally looked up his brown eyes were innocent. "What's a fuhrer?" he grinned sheepishly, happy to see Luka laugh at his comment.   
"A fuhrer is a leader, a commander. Like Mussolini."   
"I hate Mussolini."   
"Why?"   
"My father believed in him. He went to battle because of him. Mussolini thinks he can make Italy as powerful as it was in the days of the Ceasars. I think he's crazy, but my father told me I was too young to make a judgment like that. Now he's dead."   
"I'm sorry."   
Dave shrugged and continued to doodle on the ground.   
"If you hate Mussolini so much, why do you fight?"   
"Soldiers came to my house. They told me I had to. I didn't want to make my mother cry but I went anyway. All of my friends are in the war. They told me I have to do what is right for my country. I don't see how killing the English and Russians will help my country, but I suppose others do. There has to be some sense in it all, doesn't there?"  
Luka paused before answering. "I don't know."   
Dave's face was hard with anger.   
"So," Luka cleared his throat, prepared to change the dismal subject, "where are you from?"   
Brown met blue again.   
"Southern Italy; it's warm there... an ocean wind... my house is on a cliff overlooking the sea. When you stand on the ledge or on my roof you can see the water for miles," Dave was smiling now, remembering his beautiful home. "My grandmother and mother keep the most beautiful garden. Flowers, vegetables, and tomatoes. The best tomatoes in Italy. My mother's family has always kept tomatoes ever since we can remember. They are descended from the plants of our ancestors."   
Luka laughed at his spike in enthusiasm. "What do you do with the tomatoes?"   
"We sell them. My mother always loved to set up shop in the market and talk to the people who wandered by."   
"She sounds lovely."   
"She is..." Malucci's face turned contemplative. He glanced at the German soldiers who were now falling asleep. The sergeant continued to rock back and forth, humming. Dave tried to ignore the dread that crept up into him when he surveyed the scene. God, he wanted to be out of this place. Anywhere... he'd die just to feel the Mediterranean sun again. "So... how old are you, Luka?"   
"Twenty-five."   
"Twenty-five?"   
"Yes."   
"Oh... you just... seem older..."   
He smiled sadly. "War does that to a man. You already seem older than you were this afternoon when we met."   
Dave laughed. "My birthday's in a month, I think. I will be twenty."   
"We're just a couple of old men, then, aren't we?"   
They laughed some more, grateful for each other's company in the stillness of the frosty night air.  
"Well, I'm an old man who needs my sleep," Dave lay down.   
"Goodnight old geezer," Luka laughed. He was more than happy to go to sleep with laughter on his lips; something that he hadn't felt in a long time.   
The ground was cold and hard, like the air, but exhausted as they were the two men were soon sleeping just as deeply as their German comrades.   



	3. Chapter 3

A/N : This story was never created to hurt anybody and I am very sorry if I have done so

A/N : This story was never created to hurt anybody and I am very sorry if I have done so. The racial slurs are meant to be depictive of the time, and not meant to offend. So sorry! 

Luka awoke to the sounds of shouts and scuffling. He roused Dave and crawled over to the other Germans. They peeked out of the window and saw foreign soldiers picking through the rubble of the old town they took refuge in. They ducked back down. 

"They are Americans. I can see their tank," one of the Germans stated. 

"They're coming this way," their commander choked out. His forehead was beaded with sweat and he was breathing quickly. Much too quickly for the comfort of the men he commanded. "One of you must lead them away." He looked at the soldiers before him. "You," he grabbed Dave. "You go out there and distract them. We'll escape through the back door." The man's eyes were crazed and his knuckles white from gripping Dave's uniform do hard. 

"Sir," one of the Germans cleared his throat. "With all due respect that doesn't seem wise-" 

"Did I ask you, lieutenant?!" His face was red. The soldier bowed his head. "You, Go!" he shoved Dave toward the exit. Dave didn't understand what he'd said to him. The sergeant looked frustrated. "I saw you two talking," he gestured towards Luka. "Tell him what I want him to do. I only need soldiers who can understand me, anyway." The four soldiers looked at each other in growing unease. 

Luka looked at the sergeant for a moment, then to Dave. "He wants you to go outside and create a distraction while we escape," he said in Italian. Dave looked at the sergeant then back to Luka. 

A soldier's duty is to obey orders. 

Dave grasped his rifle and buckled his helmet. Luka glanced at the sergeant again, who was not chewing on his own shirt collar. He spoke quickly and quietly, his voice filled with urgency. "He's going mad. DO not be careless with your life." Malucci locked eyes with the Croatian one last time before slinking out. 

One of the German soldiers crept toward the door in the back of the building. He silently turned the handle as the other soldiers watched the movements of the unsuspecting Americans. But the door would not open. He turned to his comrades. They were trapped unless Dave led all of the Americans away, which was highly unlikely. The soldier quickly decided against trying to break down the door, for they could not risk the noise it would make. He had thought the other night all in fun, but now he realized that their lives all depended upon the scrappy young Italian.

Dave pressed his back against the wall of a crumbled, stone building trying to decide upon his best course of action. The combination of his hunger and fear made him sick, yet he knew what he had to do. He couldn't wait until the God damned war was over and he could go home again. 

He slunk over to the next building. From behind his rubble heap he had a clear shot at one of the Americans. He raised his rifle and was preparing to exact his shot when he heard a click behind him. The muzzle of another's rifle pressed against his back. 

"Hey, Colonel! I've got a live one!" 

Dave froze and heard more of the Americans moving toward him. One of them took his rifle. He tried to slow his breathing as terror gripped him. The American tapped the barrel of the rifle against his ribs, telling him in a universal language to roll over. Dave did as he was told and fearfully looked into the faces of his captors. They all had their rifles trained on his body. He struggled to remain calm. 

"Hey Colonel Romano, this one's Italian!" 

"Who gives a shit Carter! Get him to talk," his dark friend was impatient. 

"Shut up, Cookie." 

"Oh, so now we're back to that, huh? How many times do I have to tell you that I am Peter Benton, proud member of the US ARMY, not some pot-lickin' cook!" 

"Oh come on, I was only joking." He laughed. Boy, did he know how to push Benton's buttons.

Dave's eyes darted from one to the other as he held his hands up in surrender. 

"Get up," Carter motioned with his rifle. Malucci slowly rose to his feet, hands still in the air. "Do you speak English?"

Dave's eyes searched him, pleading to understand. 

"English?"

Dave recognized the word and slowly shook his head. 

"You do have alive one," Colonel Romano said as he approached, his rifle aimed at Dave's heart. "Does he speak English?"

"I don't think so, Sir." 

"Well, if he's alive and in such fine condition there's got to be others. You know how they are- like rats." 

He pushed Carter out of the way and stepped up to Dave. 

"Where the hell are they, huh? Where the hell are the rest of you dirty wops hiding?!" Romano backhanded the unsuspecting Dave and sent him stumbling to the ground. "Answer my fucking question!" He kicked Malucci in the ribs. Blood trickled down his chin from a split lip. He squinted, waiting to regain the ability t breathe again. "Huh?" Romano kicked off his helmet and dragged Dave to his feet by his shirt collar. 

"Sir," John Carter cleared his throat. "I don't think beating him up will make him understand." 

"Oh, he'll understand if he knows what's good fir him," Romano used the butt of his rifle to hit Malucci squarely in the head, causing him to fall to the ground, much more savagely this time. For a moment his world went black and he desperately prayed the American would stop. He couldn't take much more. He felt his warm blood sliding down the side of his face and staining the collar of his fatigues. Romano backed up, disgusted. "Get him up and bring him with us. We're gonna' go find his friends." Benton grabbed Malucci and pulled him to his feet, dragging the half-conscious man along. 


	4. Chapter 4

Warning: Blood and guts

Warning: Blood and guts! Along with swearing again…

"What the hell?" Colonel Romano looked at the dead German sergeant before him. Half of his head was blown in from a gunshot wound and he sat, slouched against the outside wall of what had been a livery stable with a pistol in his hand. 

"Looks like suicide…" Carter whispered.

"Well," Romano looked about. "If he's a sergeant I suspect there aren't anymore around here. Probably all ran away." Romano lied out loud. 

"Sir?" Benton questioned the short, stalky man. 

"A soldier's job is to follow orders Benton. I'm not about to go searching through the rubble and loose more men looking for a few piss poor Gerries. Greene!" 

The major looked up. Romano pointed to the weak man Benton supported. "Kill him."

All eyes darted to Romano for a moment. "Now. We can't afford to have his buddies following us around. Kill him now." 

Major Greene readied his rifle. 

Malucci was now much more aware of his surroundings and spotted the dead sergeant. But before he could even feel the wave of shock that began to creep into him Benton began to pull him away. 

"Put him on his knees," Greene looked at Benton. 

"Get down on your knees," Benton locked eyes with the uncomprehending Italian. "On your knees!" he kicked the back of Dave's legs to force him to kneel. 

Greene readied his shot. He aimed, then looked up to Benton who was backing away from the prisoner. Malucci's eyes watched Benton back away, knowing what was happening. Peter Benton never enjoyed locking eyes with one who was about to die… especially one so young…

"Benton," Greene looked up from his rifle scope. "A few words. Please."

Romano shifted his weight and rolled his eyes. "Oh please… just get it over with…" John, who was standing guard spared an disapproving glance in Romano's direction.

Benton bowed his head and made a quick cross across his chest. "Oh Father who art in heaven…"

Dave's mind raced with possibilities. Unfortunately he didn't have many options. But he couldn't die; not like this. He refused to. He felt his throat tightening and tried to push back his tears. In a last, desperate effort he looked up to Benton, who was still rambling in English with his head bowed. He looked back to see the colonel in the background, kicking some rocks. He saw Major Greene, aiming his rifle at his head. For a moment Greene looked out of his scope again and locked eyes with Dave. He could tell he didn't want to pull the trigger. But Greene looked back into his rifle scope and told him to turn around while he made a motion with his hand to do so. Not knowing what else to do, and hoping that soon he would rejoin his father, he slowly did so. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and hoped that he wouldn't feel much pain. 

He heard the gunshot but didn't feel anything. He momentarily pondered reasons he may not have felt the bullet when the Americans around him started running and shouting. He opened his eyes and spun around to see Major Greene on the ground while his comrades shot into the distance. Someone yelped in pain and as quickly as the shots had erupted, they stopped. Dave didn't dare move. He remained on his knees, watching what was going on. 

Carter ran to Greene's side and began to help him. He jumped up again as Romano called an order and he and Benton jogged behind a shelled-out building. Romano disappeared in the opposite direction and came back with Luka Kovac at gunpoint. Dave was grateful that Luka was alive, however his arm was stained red. Romano pushed him down next to Dave and stood guard, calling to the other two soldiers. They emerged, each with a German in front of them. The two soldiers joined David and Luka. 

"The other one's dead," John jerked his head in the direction of the building he'd come from. "Took one to the chest." 

"Is that all of them?" Romano looked at John convictingly. 

"Yes, Sir. All here, at least." 

"Good." 

Benton was bent over Major Greene, applying pressure to his wound. 

Dave looked at the faces of his fellow soldiers. There were only traces of fear, overridden by disappointment and anger. 

"I guess we'll have to go one at a time," Romano raised his rifle again. 

"Carter, you take the little one last. Let him see what trouble he's caused for his friends now." 

Carter knew this was going to be one of the moments he'd push back into his mind, hoping it would never resurface. Damn, he had too many of those all ready. 

Romano was interrupted in his aiming by the sound of a honking truck. He looked up to see a lorrie with nurses coming towards them. 

One of them stood up and looked out impatiently. "Mark!" her British voice cracked the stillness. "Where's Mark?!" 

As soon as the truck had pulled to a stop she was out and running towards the fallen soldier. 

"Oh God! Mark! Can you hear me?!" 

"I'm fine Elizabeth… just a flesh wound." 

"What do you mean 'just a flesh wound'? You're bleeding aren't you?" She suddenly turned condescending. "Abigail! Get me a medical bag!" 

One of the nurses raced forward with a black bag. "How bad is it, ma'am?" the young Irish girl looked up to Elizabeth. 

"I don't know…" 

"Hey! You boys were supposed to be back an hour ago! Looks like you ran into some trouble!" The slim nurse with frizzy black hair who'd been driving showed off her New York accent. "Whaddya got here? Gerries?" She chuckled to herself.

"This area's not safe, you shouldn't be here," Romano looked down at Elizabeth who was trying to help the man she loved. Having bandaged him up she turned to the other nurses. 

"Hathaway! Start up the damn lorrie! We need to get him to the clinic!"

"Cool it Corday! Let me take a look at him first," She strolled over to Mark and Elizabeth, muttering "… talk about being emotionally involved…" 

"These prisoners?" The slight Asian nurse sidled up to Colonel Romano. John gave him a look. "Yep," he said, with fake cheer, his eyes locked on Carter. "They are now." He couldn't possibly shoot them all in front of the women, even if they were war nurses. "Round 'em up!" Romano yelled to John and Peter. "Put 'em in the damn truck! We haven't got all day. And make sure their hands are bound!" 


	5. Chapter 5

The truck bounced along and Dave tried to keep his seat which was proving excedingliy difficult since his hands were bound behind his back

The truck bounced along and Dave tried to keep his seat, which was proving exceedingly difficult since his hands were bound behind his back. He could already feel evidence of chaffing and wished that they would cut them off. He, Luka, and the two German soldiers were crammed into the bed of a truck with two armed Americans sitting on the outside. The frizzy-haired nurse drove with her Asian friend beside her. 

The young Chinese nurse watched the prisoners riding in the back. She looked at the drying blood on the side of Dave's head and at the growing red stain on the arm of Luka's uniform. None would look back at her. None except the one in the back. The boy that was the darkest with the blood on the side of his head. She'd caught him glancing at her quickly. For a few seconds their eyes locked and for a moment she saw a man; not just an enemy. He shied away, though, something inside telling him not to prolong his gaze.

They arrived at the Allies' camp a quarter of an hour later. The prisoners were lead into a barbwire enclosure surrounded by armed guards. Their hands still bound, Luka and Dave sat down alongside one of the Germans. The other paced about. 

"Cowards," he muttered in German. "Who knows what they'll do to us now…" he kicked up dirt. 

"Hey! Pike down in 'ere!" one of the English guards hissed to the scowling German. 

"It's alright," Luka tried to calm his comrade. "They will release us when the war is over." 

"After they torture us for information." 

"We are a handful of lieutenants and infantry. They would not waste their time interrogating us." 

The German's facial expression softened with reason. He approached. "I'm Douglas. Douglas Ross." He knelt. 

"I'm Luka Kovac." 

"How 'bout him?" he jerked his head at Dave. 

"David Malucci, Italian Infantry." 

After hearing his name Dave looked up, figuring out what was going on. He couldn't understand the men and the pain in his throbbing head was increasing so he let himself zone out. 

Doug chuckled. "It's funny. We risked our lives for him, you and I… and I didn't even know his name." 

Luka smiled weakly. 

"Can he understand me?" 

"No. He only speaks Italian." 

"Oh. Well, then tell him I'm sorry about the other night. Sven here gets pretty rough when he's drunk," he jerked his head toward the other German soldier who smirked. 

"David. David," Luka elbowed the man next to him to rouse his attention. "This is Doug Ross. He wants to apologize for last night." 

"Oh… It's okay," he looked sleepy and his eyelids were beginning to droop. 

Luka turned back to Doug. "He says it's all right." 

Doug laughed and sat down next to Luka. 

Meanwhile Elizabeth had rushed Mark into the clinic while Romano stormed off to speak with his commanding officer. 

"What the hell were they doing there?!"

The large man looked up from his paperwork. "Who?" 

"Those damn nurses! They just about got themselves killed!" 

The man chuckled. "I thought I heard a truck pull out…" 

"This is a serious matter of a breach of protocol-"

"It's a matter of discipline, yes, but I wouldn't take it so far as to-"

"I will not tolerate this to go unpunished. They were completely in enemy territory!" 

"All right. I'll go talk with them." 

Romano was quiet for a moment. "It's that frizzy-haired one, Hathaway. Ever since her husband died she's been wild-" 

"Major Jones was a respected member of this military." 

"I'm well aware of that, Sir. However-" 

"I all ready said, I will deal with it."

Romano tried to deal with something being beyond his power before speaking. "Very well, Sir. I have some new targets for your firing squad." 

"You know just as well as I do that the war will be over in very little time at all. Hitler has gone into hiding and orders are to keep all prisoners until peace is called." 

Romano bit his tongue. "Yes Sir," he gritted out before turning to leave. 

"Oh, and Romano." 

Robert spun around. 

"I'm sorry about your son." 

Pain filled his face. 'Yes, well, thank you sir. So am I." 


	6. Chapter 6

Elizabeth had fallen asleep at Mark's bedside and was awoken when he stirred

A/N: Sorry I've been so slow lately! With the school year started I won't be able to post as often but will as much and as soon as possible. Thank you for all of the support you've shown me! You guys are the reason I keep writing! I love you guys!

Elizabeth had fallen asleep at Mark's bedside and was awoken when he stirred. 

"Elizabeth?" 

She quickly grabbed his hand. "I'm right here, Mark." 

His breathing was labored. "If I don't make it… I want you to go on with your life. Fall in love again… promise me you won't-"

"Oh, Mark, stop it! You're going to be just fine!" 

"I dunno…" he kept his eyes closed. His skin had taken a rather yellow hue and his face was sticky with sweat. Elizabeth glanced down at his leg where the bullet had entered and realized that the red stain on the bandage hadn't been as large before. She hurried to get another injection of antibiotic but Mark waved his hand. "It's too late… It used to hurt so bad. Now I can't feel it anymore." 

She looked at his face intensely for a moment then began to pull off his bandages. The wound was dark and the flesh around it was sallow. Elizabeth bit the inside of her lip to keep from crying. God, why couldn't she help him?! Ever since Carol's husband, the camp doctor, had been hit by a stray shell the nurses had to handle things on their own. She had never doubted her medical abilities until that day. The day she watched Jason Hathaway die. 

It was now late afternoon and Luka watched the faint shadows grow as Dave, Doug and Sven slept on the ground. Luka resisted the tendrils of sleep that seemed to grab him at odd intervals. He wanted to keep guard in case something happened. However, he was growing increasingly tired and decided to rouse Dave for his shift, since he had fallen asleep first. 

"Hey, Malucci," he gently pushed his friend's shoulder with his boot since his hands were still bound. "Hey," he pushed a little harder and spoke a little louer. When Dave still didn't wake up Luka became frustrated. "Hey!" he tried not to wake up his comrades and pushed Dave more roughly this time. The young man still showed no life. Now Luka was worried. "David? David! Can you hear me?" he wished his hands were untied so he could feel for his friend's pulse. "Hey! Guard!" he yelled in English, surprising all within earshot. 

"What's a matter?" the nearest Brit turned. 

"He needs a doctor," he jerked his head towards Dave. "He was hit in the head and something's wrong." 

The Englishman nodded, deciding on what to do. He looked over to the closest guard who inclined his head, giving him a go.

"Wit here, I'll go fetch a nurse." 

A few long minutes later he reappeared with Jing-Mei and Carol in tow. It only took her a second to realize who the fallen enemy was. Her heart had gone out to him earlier. He reminded her of people back home; people caught up in this mess. She quickly glanced him over from outside. 

"Bring him out." 

"What?" 

"I need to treat him in the clinic. Bring him out." The Brit and nearest guard exchanged glances then moved to open the gate. Jing-Mei looked at the blood on the cloth of Luka's sleeve. "Him, too."

Romano propped his feet up on a crate and lit a cigar. He exhaled a cloud of smoke that appeared alive as it caught every microscopic breeze and wafted outward, upward, inward, sideways and down. After another puff in which he savored the rich taste with his eyes closed he turned his attention to his company.

"Lieutenant Carter. You wanted to see me?" 

The young lieutenant with a heavy five-o-clock shadow stepped forward and saluted. "It's about the prisoners, Sir. With all due respect I feel-"

"You feel what, Carter?" Romano snapped. "Don't feel anything. They'll hopefully be dead within forty-eight hours." 

Carter looked puzzled. "Sir, our orders are against executing any prisoners. Word is-" 

"Do you live your life by orders, Carter?"

The young man was confused by hearing this question from a commanding officer in such a pensive tone and didn't know how to respond. 

"You see… following orders is what got me this limp. Following my orders is what got my son killed," he looked away painfully to a photograph of a young man in uniform. 

John followed his gaze. "I never knew Michael, Sir. Bit I'm sure he was a good man," he offered, after a pause.

"Yes. Yes he was. A better man than I'll ever be. And what good did it do him, following orders?" 

John was silent. 

"When I first got word I didn't know what to think. Marge is probably still crying. You don't know what pain is like until you've lost a child. And why? Because some damn fat German sent in one more brigade of Italians. They say he was killed when that wave attacked. It's been almost a year now, and it still hurts all the same." He'd almost forgotten that John was there. "Whenever I see the face of one of those damn wops I can't help but think if it's the face of the man who killed my Michael," his voice cracked. 

After a long pause he snapped out of his reverie and turned back to Carter, his voice soft. "Well… what did you want?"

The cook had sent him to ask if the prisoners should get hot soup like the rest of the soldiers and he had entered Colonel Romano's tent in certainty that he would have to argue for it. After all, if he was a prisoner of war, he'd like hot soup on a day like this. Yet now, however, he thought it was best to just leave. "Nothing, Sir. Nothing." 

The binds on Luka's hands had been cut and he now sat in silence and the frizzy-haired nurse wrapped a bandage around his arm. He kept his gaze on Dave. He was lying on a bed and the Asian nurse was cleaning the blood and dirt from his face. 

Colonel Romano entered. "Lieutenant Chen, you asked for me?" 

She rose from her position at Dave's bedside. "Yes. I was hoping you could explain something." 

"And what would that be?" 

"The wounds on the Italian prisoner were obviously not inflicted in combat. Lieutenant Carter says you took these prisoners peacefully. So how'd he get a concussion?"

Romano looked past her to the unconscious soldier. "You should ask him," he turned back to her. "He did it to himself. Now if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to." 

"Colonel Romano, if I find out that you beat another soldier unnecessarily, I'll have you-" 

"Don't worry your pretty head, Miss Jing-Mei. This is war. War is a man's work." He spun on his heels and left her flustered. 

"That man needs a kidney stone," Carol finished off Luka's bandage. 

"More like two." 

"Hey," Carol nodded towards Dave. "Look at his dog tags, find out who he is."

Jing-Mei approached Dave.

"His name is David Malucci."

Both nurses reeled around at Luka's voice in English. 

Jing-Mei stumbled for words. "U, a, oh. What's you name?" 

"Luka Kovac." 

"Well…" not knowing what else to do she extended her hand. "I'm Jing-Mei Chen. This is Carol Hathaway."

"How do you know English?" Carol placed her hands on her hips. 

"I studied in a university." 

"Oh." 

He jerked his head toward Dave. "Is he going to be all right?" 

"Are you two friends?" 

"Yes." 

"Hopefully. He has a concussion and a fever is developing. However we're short on supplies…"

"And you wouldn't waste them on a prisoner?" 

"No, I didn't say that," Jing-Mei furrowed her brow. "So tell me Luka, how did this happen?"

Luka shrugged. "I don't know. We were separated."

Just then a bawling Elizabeth ran in from the second medical tent. 

"Lizzie, what's the matter?" Carol hugged her friend. 

"It's Mark. We have to amputate his leg below the knee!" the woman was shaking. 

"Oh no…" Carol rubbed her back. "It'll be all right. At least he'll live." 

"But without a leg! It's not all right! It's all because some stupid bastard-" she caught sight of Luka. "Is he one of them?" 

"Lizzie, this is Luka Kovac, he's-" Jing-Mei began but was cut off when Elizabeth pushed past her. She looked Luka in the eye and delivered him a swift backhand. "You pathetic bastard," she muttered vilely. 

Luka kept her gaze. "He was about to kill my comrade, he-" Lizzie was not shocked by his English words and before he could finish she'd grabbed him by the shoulders and was screaming at him hysterically.

"Lizzie!" Carol and Jing-Mei pulled her away and Carol dragged her out of the tent. 

Jing-Mei turned back to Luka and gave him a hard stare for a moment, not trusting herself to speak knowing he was the man who shot Lizzie's fiancée. Instead she walked out and told a soldier that she wanted guards to be posted at the medical tent at all times. 


	7. Chapter 7

Dave's world was spinning

Dave's world was spinning. A memory here. A dream there. Voices, sounds, laughter, yelling. Blackness, red, sunlight, an explosion, fire, the sea, the sound of the surf. His grandmother's hands. His life. All was in turmoil as he struggled to breathe, struggled away from the heat. 

Luka relaxed on his cot, thankful to be in a warm tent when it was so cold outside. He looked over at the form of Dave. Jing-Mei was using a wet cloth in an attempt to cool his fever. She had taken off his uniform jacket and shirt to aid in the cooling process and now pondered possibilities. It was true that the young Italian had received a nasty blow to the head, but that didn't compensate for the fever, not as high as his was, at least. It must have been something in the water he drank… Whatever it was, he was now delirious and she desperately hoped to cool his body temperature. 

It was hard to surprise her these days. She had seen so many horrible things since she left home. She looked to his chest as his ribcage expanded to compensate for inflated lungs. His body was toned and yet there was hardly an ounce of fat on him. She couldn't help but feel sorry for him and wonder when he last ate. A while ago, from the looks of it. Malnutrition coupled with infection was a potent killer on the battlefield.

She rung out the cloth and dried her hands on her skirt. It was time to wake Abigail to care for the two prisoners. Jing-Mei needed to sleep. As she folded back the flap a voice came from behind. 

"Thank you." 

She turned and gave Luka a weak smile before exiting. She passed a small group of soldiers gathered around a fire listening attentively to the radio as she made her way to Abigail's tent. 

"After taking the beaches of Normandy by storm, the Americans have by far proven their will to win this war and will be rewarded in the very near future as reports of Hitler's whereabouts become-" the man's voice disappeared as the radio hissed and crackled.

"Become what?!" Peter Benton smacked the radio's side as John tried to adjust the tuner. After about a minute Frank Sinatra's voice came on. "Saturday night is the loneliest night of the week…" he sounded distant. 

"Damn! We missed it! Damn radio, ain't worth two cents of beans!"

"What?" John openly laughed. 

"You heard me! Damn piece of junk…" 

John looked up as he saw Abby heading toward one of the medical tents. After she disappeared inside he looked thoughtful. 

"Did you hear about Mark Greene?" 

"Yeah," Benton sighed. Mark was a good man, a friend to all of them. 

"It's too bad." 

"You know what?" Peter looked serious. 

"Hm?"

"I know I should be feeling bad about hi, but instead I just feel relieved that it wasn't me who took that bullet. What kind of thing does that to a man, John? Makes a man feel grateful that his best buddy just got his head blown off and not his?" 

'War, Peter. War does that to a man." 

The two sat in silence. 

Another day passed without much activity or news and Luka rested in the infirmary. He knew he would have to go back to the enclosure soon, but didn't want to. It was warm, although dimly lit, and nurses brought him food. His only regrets were that his comrades were still out there in the cold of southern Germany. 

He watched his friend toss and turn in the depths of fever in the cot beside him. 

"Poor kid." He saw the nurse called Carol standing in the doorway. She stepped forward. "Whatever he's got he's got it bad." She smiled as she remembered someone. "You know, he reminds me of my kid brother. He's back at home- at least he was last I hear d from my family. Damn draft, I hope it doesn't get him." 

Luka cleared his throat. "My brother was also in the army." 

"Yeah?" 

"He, um, he was a scholar. I wanted so much to be him. He took me to Germany with him to hear Hitler speak. He wanted to help me hear of all of the ideas in the world. But Hitler affected him. He had been to Germany many times for my family in well off, but this time, this time he seemed to fall into a trance. And I saw him salute Hitler, just like the other boys. That was when I realized he was changing. He joined Hitler's army. Afraid of what he'd think if I left for home I joined also. I tried to believe. There were good things to believe in. But after time the bad things outnumbered the good. When Jeremy died, I couldn't believe anymore. For a time I lost my sense of morality. Now… now I am stuck in this mess…" 

Carol was quiet. "That's a very sad story, Luka. I'm sorry. But don't you see that what Hitler is doing is wrong? He may claim to have good intentions, but killing thousands of people just because they're Jewish-" 

"What do you mean?" 

"Luka, I'm talking about the concentration camps. Some men from this outpost have even seen them." 

"My God…" Luka looked shocked. "He actually did it…" 

"You didn't know?" 

"There was talk, but no one believed it was possible to even try such a thing. I never believed he would…" his voice trailed off. 

"Well," she took a deep breath. "Now you do." 

When he looked at her his eyes reflected pain. She cleared her throat and looked away, unable to take his gaze. "As much as I'd like to stay here and chat with you about the horrors of war, I've gotta' wake up Chen for her shift." She turned and left, keeping her compassion at bay for who she knew to be the enemy, as human as he seemed. 

Luka looked down, feeling a small stab of pain in his heart and trying to deal with the facts of their reality. Dear Lord. It now seemed as though the whole world was chaos and killing. Death surrounded him and for a moment he felt as though he would choke in the darkness that engulfed him. My God, Hitler actually did it… he now knew that the world could only return to a shadow of what it once was. Little did he know of the equally horrific news that would await the world in the near future after a successful test in New Mexico. His shock and regret, pain, sorrow and feelings of worthlessness were interrupted when Hathaway reentered with Chen. 

They began discussing inventory when Dave yelped and bolted up. Both nurses jumped and Hathaway quickly made her way over to the panting, fever-stricken young man. "Whoa there big boy, not so fast now." 

He looked at her strange face with apprehension and confused fear. He snapped his head to the left as he heard Jing-Mei approach. She froze in her tracks and held up her hands. "It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you." 

His eyes rapidly searched the room until he found Luka. 

"Luka," his voice was husky and weak. 

"It's all right," Luka spoke soothingly in Italian. " They're here to help. You're safe."

He looked back to the nurses. His adrenaline dissipating, he no longer had the strength to hold himself up and slowly relaxed back onto the cot. 

"That' better," Carol chuckled as she reached for an oil lamp to light. He was till covered in sweat, pale, and obviously didn't even have the strength to sit up. 

Carol handed the lit lamp to Jing-Mei. "My shifts up, you take care of the little weasel." Chen threw her a fake smile and stepped closer to Dave. He was breathing quickly and obviously having trouble keeping track of his world. 

"My name is Jing-Mei." He looked up at her face, startled at hearing her speak his native tongue. She smiled warmly; his expression was priceless. Luka was also surprised. "I grew up in Southern California," she explained to the two men. "I learned Spanish I school. Spanish and Italian are extremely similar. My best friend was Italian-American. She helped me learn the differences. We planned to go to Italy together someday." Luka couldn't help but smile in amazement. She caught his expression. "Trust me, after growing up speaking both Mandarin and English Italian is easy," she laughed. 

Dave was able to focus more and wore a lopsided grin. "My name is David," he said. 

Jing-Mei grabbed his limp hand. "It's nice to meet you, David."

"It's nice to meet you, too…" 

"Jing-Mei." 

"Xiang-Mai?"

"No, Jing-Mei…" it took him a few more comical tries before he could say her name with the proper accent. 

Later on in the evening Luka had fallen asleep and after a restful nap Dave had awoken again. Jing-Mei smiled at him, catching herself being pulled to his emotion-filled gaze once more. She looked back to her writing. Dave was content to peacefully watch her wrist glide across the paper. His fever had dropped and he was much more comfortable. 

When she was finished she looked up from the table and smiled at him again. "Do you want to see?" 

He nodded. She held up the unlined paper on which she had written in Chinese characters. Dave laughed. "You can read this?" 

"Of course," she looked at the paper thoughtfully. "It's to my parents. They're worried sick about me. They say the battlefield is no place for a woman- nurse or not. I think my mother just doesn't like the idea of me being surrounded by so many men," she laughed. 

Dave smirked and looked at the characters, wondering how one could learn to read such a thing. She was obviously fluent in Mandarin, yet despite their differences she spoke Italian very well. 

"What do you think?" 

Their brown eyes found each other. He though for a minute before speaking. "I think that a woman's place is where her heart is most happy, whether she is surrounded by men or not," he laughed as much as he could in his weak state. Her laughter joined his, but after a moment she cleared her throat. "David. Why are you in this war? You can't possibly believe in what Hitler says." 

Dave furrowed his brow. "What does Hitler say? I have never met him." 

Jing-Mei looked incredulous but it was apparent that Dave wasn't joking. How could it be possible that both of the enemy soldiers she'd met weren't fighting for what she'd been taught they should? "Never mind, then. Hitler is a bad man." She didn't feel comfortable explaining to him what he, the enemy, was fighting a war for. 

'Well then, if you see him, you should tell him your mind." She now saw a twinkle in his eyes. 

All right, I will," she giggled. "Why are you fighting, David?" 

His expression turned grave. "I only fight because I have no choice. I fight to stay alive. All boys in my village are soldiers." 

"Are there many like that? Who fight only because they have to?"

"Yes." 

She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. I never knew…" 

"Why are you here?" Dave changed the subject, not wanting to see her uncomfortable like this. 

"That's a good question…" she looked at a lit oil lamp as she spoke. "To make my parents angry, partially."

"Why would you want that?" 

She looked back to him. "My family is from Northern China- from Manchuria. They moved here when the Japanese became aggressive there. They knew bad times were coming and wanted a better life for themselves and their child. It's very hard to grow up in America and fit in while at the same time trying to please your traditional Chinese parents. I was never very good at it, at least. I always knew I wanted to study medicine, and when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor my world changed. Sometimes I'd be walking down the street and somebody would call me a 'dirty Jap' and tell me to go home even though I am Chinese. They don't know and don't care. I was sick of it. I joined up as a nurse to prove myself to my country. My parents never let me have as much freedom as I have now…" 

"Well," Dave spoke after a moment of listening. "I think that you are a good nurse. You helped me." 

She smiled at him sadly. "Yes. I helped you."

"When the war is over will you go home?" 

"The war here will be over soon-" Dave's heart filled with joy. That would mean he could go home soon… "-but America's war will not. Many of my friends are fighting the Japanese in the Pacific. I fear that battle will last much longer that that here in Europe. The Japanese are a proud people, a powerful people, and will not give up easily." She looked down at her hands. 

Dave caught himself staring at her. He didn't know why he was so drawn to her. To him, her beauty was that of a rare find and he could never drink enough of it. "Thank you for helping me."

She smiled at him. Her smile faded when she though of something. "David, do you remember how you were hit in the head?" 

He though for a moment, disturbed by the memories that surfaced. "An American hit me… I was going to shoot someone and they surrounded me. I couldn't understand what they said, but one of them hit me many times."

She looked from his split lip to the dark bruises on his chest. As she noticed the dark bruising she couldn't help but notice how beautiful the natural color of his skin was. Catching herself doing this she quickly pulled her gaze away and stood, straightening her skirt. "Well, you must be exhausted. I'll let you get some rest," she walked out before he could respond. Dave watched her go. Even the way she walked seemed special. 

Jing-Mei strode as fast as she could to Romano's tent. "Colonel Romano!" 

He jumped from his chair. Rage hung in the air around her. "I just thought you might like to know that I have evidence that will get you discharged immediately." 

He tried to remain calm. "Evidence of what, Ms. Chen?" 

"That Italian soldier just told me that you were the one who beat him. All I need is a testimony from one of our witnessing soldiers and-" 

'You speak Italian now, do you?" 

She ignored his question. "Sir, you've been sited on three separate occasions and received many warnings. If you're not careful I'll-" 

"You look so flustered, Jing-Mei. If I didn't know better I'd say you've taken a liking to that Italian prisoner, seeing as how close you two have been…" 

She tried to keep her anger at bay. Damn, he knew how to provoke people. "Sir, I am a nurse and was just doing my job to heal-" 

"Good! Then as soon as either one of those soldiers is well enough they're back in the enclosure." 

"Very well, but don't think that I won't take this matter to the general-" 

"Oh, come on now, Jing-Mei. You're a smart girl. The general and I are pals. We go way back. And do you honestly think that I'm going to let some chink ruin my military career? Then think again, Ms. Chen," his tone was venom. 

She swallowed hard. 

"Now why don't you just go back to your duties, before I get impatient with you. As I said before, the battlefield is no place for a woman. Bad things can happen." His gaze was sinister. 

"Yes, Sir," she forced out through grit teeth. She turned and marched out. 

As she hurried away from Romano's tent John caught her expression. "Ms. Chen, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she choked out before running to her small tent and flinging herself onto her cot, sobbing. Romano's words had cut to her heart. She hated that man, right now, more than anything in the world.

A/N: Hey guys! You are too good! I've had this story mapped out in my head and planned to make it a "Jinucci" all along and you figured me out! LOL. You're the coolest. Be sure to tell me what you think, like you darlings always have. I absolutely adore your comments! 

Don't forget to watch the epic miniseries _Band of Brothers_ on HBO, premiering Sunday, Sept. 9 at 9pm. It's about the men on Easy Company (WWII, of course!) and made by Steven Speilberg and Tom Hanks, the wonderful dreamers who brought us _Saving Private Ryan_. Man…I sound like a solicitor…


	8. Cahpter 8

Jing-Mei woke up once in the night and had trouble falling back asleep

Jing-Mei woke up once in the night and had trouble falling back asleep. Her mind kept traveling to the conversations she'd had with the Italian soldier. The curves of his smile, the depths of his eyes, his sense of humor. She smiled as she remembered what they had spoken about. She felt a strange urge to walk into the medical tent to be with him. He was probably asleep, but for some reason she couldn't wait to speak with him again. She just enjoyed his company, she figured. But she knew in her heart that there was something more, something deeper. She had felt an immediate connection with him, and knew that he felt it, too. Maybe it was the stillness of night that was making her think this way, but she couldn't help but smile when thinking of him. She couldn't go back to sleep and looked at her wristwatch. It was three in the morning. The sun wouldn't come up for another three hours or more, yet she couldn't wait for dawn. 

Eventually her eyes ached to close and she relaxed onto her pillow, giving into the blue hues of night. She dreamt dreams of emotions and when she awoke next her heart was alight with hope. 

She fixed her hair and washed her face, anticipating a new day. When she walked into the medical tent her eyes immediately went to Dave's cot. Her breath caught in her chest and her heart skipped a beat when she saw that it was empty. She quickly ran back outside and looked at the barbed wire enclosure. No one was there. 

"They left," she heard Elizabeth behind her. 

"Where'd they go?" she tried to sound unaffected by her shock. 

"To another camp. Half the boys went with them. We're clearing out. This war will soon be over." 

Jing-Mei turned to face her British friend. "When did they leave?" 

"At sunup." 

"Oh," she cleared her throat. "I suppose we will be leaving then, too?" 

"Yes. We've been ordered to pack. You'll be going stateside soon." 

She looked around, trying to hide the turmoil of emotions inside her.

"How's Mark?" She tried to change the subject and act normal. 

"He's doing well. He walked today…with crutches. But at least he tried." Her voice was woeful. 

Jing-Mei smiled sadly. "That's good." 

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes." 

After a few more moments of silence they Elizabeth put her hand on Jing-Mei's shoulder. "You should pack now. We'll be leaving soon." 

Chen nodded and turned back to her tent. 

Dave was back in the bed of a truck with the other prisoners, his hands on the back of his head. They'd removed the binds on their hands out of decency and had been driving for two hours. His frustration showed in his silence. He never even got to say goodbye to Jing-Mei. But who was he kidding? He tried to reason with himself. She didn't really care for him. She couldn't. She was just being nice. Maybe that's what nurses are taught. To be nice. Whether this was the truth or not he still felt a longing to see her again. He wondered if she felt the same.

Jing-Mei hated the way these trucks took to the roads here in Europe. Always bouncing and noisy as heck. She clutched her bag of belongings to her chest as she sat next to Elizabeth who's thoughts were obviously on Mark. 

Dave, Luka, Sven and Doug were lead, hands on their heads, to their new residence. To Dave's surprise they were to join about twenty other prisoners of war in a more sophisticated fenced-in area. The air was cold and their breath came in puffs of white heat. Still weak from his fever and partially starved Dave sat down in a corner, pulling his uniform jacket tight around him for warmth. Luka, as always sat beside him as he and Doug began to converse quietly until one of the American soldiers yelled at them to shut-up. 

The prisoners had received some food and Dave felt his body relaxing, thankful for the much-needed nourishment, even if it was stale bread and cold beans. 

Jing-Mei strolled through the new camp, noticing the some of the Allied soldiers elbowing each other and nodding in her direction. Some of these men had obviously been deprived of the grace of the female for too long now. As she passed the prisoners section her eyes quickly searched through the crowd, trying to pretend she wasn't looking for someone. Dave saw her, yet made no move to reveal himself. When she caught sight of his face she momentarily paused. They locked eyes and exchanged an emotion-filled stare, desperately trying to communicate to each other their feelings. She heard someone cough and quickly looked away, pretending to not have noticed the Italian. She quickly resumed her pace again, pretending as if nothing had happened, but giving Dave a meaningful glance over her shoulder that read "I have not forgotten you."

Dave felt his heart rate begin to return to normal and sighed a little, his breath clouding before him. He felt eyes watching him and saw Luka giving him a look of amusement. He gave him a shy, crooked smile and looked down at his cold hands.

Jing-Mei sweetly greeted the nurses she was to temporarily join and requested to see the head nurse. She was letting her emotions get the best of her, she knew, but she had to try with her plan. 

"Hi. I'm Kerry Weaver, head nurse. And you're…?"

"Jing-Mei Chen." The two women shook hands. 

"It's nice to meet you Ms. Chen. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes, actually. You received four new prisoners today, one of which was under my care. I'd like to check in on him, if you don't mind." 

Weaver's face grew stern. "Ms. Chen, these are prisoners of war, I'd hoped you'd take more of an interest in out wounded." 

"I do, ma'am," she quickly interjected in her defense. "However I don't feel that the POW's should be neglected. They are under our care."

"I suppose you have a point… one of the guards owes me a favor. To keep the fuss down I'll have him come see you tonight so less will know." 

Jing-Mei smiled. "That would be perfect, Ms. Weaver. I thank you, and my patient will thank you, also." 

Jing-Mei sat on an empty cot in the deserted medical tent, her hands folded on her lap, as she had suddenly become nervous. A guard had left to get Dave and deliver him to her. What was she going to say to him? He really was recovering well and didn't need to be examined, but it was the only excuse she could think of to see him again. To be alone with his again. To talk with him again. 

She heard the scuffing of shoes outside and stood stiffly. Dave walked in, hands on head, as a guard held a rifle behind him. The pairs of brown eyes found each other again. She looked at him for a moment, then remembered the guard. 

"It's all right. I know him, he won't try anything."

"You sure, Miss?"

She nodded. "Yes. I'm quite capable of dealing with a beaten, half-starved prisoner." 

"I'll wait outside, then." He stepped out, not wanting to anger her further. 

They looked at each other's faces intensely for a moment, not knowing what to say and not really caring. 

"How are you?" Jing-Mei's Italian finally broke the silence.

"Cold." Dave said truthfully, not knowing what else to say.

Jing-Mei stepped forward and put the backside of her hand to his cheek. "David, you're freezing." 

"It's very cold outside." 

She could see his sense of humor showing again and smiled. "Yes it is." 

He caught her hand in his as she let it fall to her side. It was cold, but she welcomed his touch. They're eyes locked on each other and neither knew what to say how to express their emotions. Jing-Mei leaned in closer. He could feel her warm breath against his face and let himself lean in closer to her. Their faces inched closer until their lips met. She was so warm and he was so cold. He felt her warm hand touch his face as they continued to show their growing love for one another, passion rising within. 

In his nineteen years Dave had never loved someone before, not like this. This love was powerful and threatened to overwhelm his body, heart and soul. 

Jing-Mei never wanted to part from him, giving him her strength and warmth, her life. She had had many boyfriends before in her twenty-three years of life, yet none so strong of love. None so forbidden. 

"David?" she unwillingly pulled her lips away from his. "I think I love you." 

He looked into her eyes. "I do, too." 

She felt passion rise up in her again and her lip long for his as they met once more and stayed together for quite some time. As much as both would have liked to give in to their passion at that very moment they both knew that it was not the place, and definitely not the time. Yet what Jing-Mei did know was that she now loved David Malucci more than she had loved anyone before. Dave felt the same as was prepared to give the world to her if she asked. 

She rested her head on his chest as his arms wrapped around her. They hugged for a while longer, yet she had been with him for a half an hour and new he must go back. She pulled away and looked at him sadly. He also knew he had to leave. 

She called the guard back in, and he led the lovesick Dave away, back into the cold, back into the night, back into the darkness from which he came. When he sat back down next to Luka in his corner the Croatian gave him an expression of warning. He knew what was happening and realized that it could very well get Dave killed. 

Dave couldn't sleep, his emotions racing through him. His mind was clouded with her. Only her. The rest of the world didn't matter. Not the war. Not the cold. Not the hunger inside him. Only her. Her lovely face. Her brown eyes. The way she loved him. That was all he needed to survive. 


	9. Chapter 9

Dave awoke to the sound of distant thunder

Dave awoke to the sound of distant thunder. However, as he strained his ears he could tell that it wasn't thunder, but the sound of distant engines. Many distant engines. He rose to his feet, as did the other prisoners who heard the sound and looked off into the distance. He could see the surrounding troops tense visibly, getting their weapons ready in case of an enemy attack. 

He saw it. Rising over the horizon in the early morning light were the silhouettes of many an airplane. They flew closer, the rumble getting louder and louder until it was all that one could hear. Dave squinted at the planes, trying to se their markings. As the first approached he was able to discern a white star painted on the side. American. His heart jumped momentarily in fear until he remembered that he was in an Allied camp. They would not attack. 

To his surprise the plane flew in formation above them, then tipped their wings at the soldiers, the pilots waving frantically. The rest of the Allied troops waved back, grinning. When the noise of the engines had died down the telegraph boy came running out of the General's tent, yelling hysterically. "It's over! The war in Europe is over! Hitler's dead, Germany's surrendered!" 

Wild cheers erupted from all corners of the camp. While the shouts of joy were in English, the foreign prisoners also spoke that universal language of human emotion. They understood and now jumped in pure happiness, hugging one another. Luka grabbed Dave and squeezed the life out of him, the young Italian laughing the whole time. 

Jing-Mei and the other nurses ran out of the medical tent where they'd been hiding after hearing approaching bombers, and now hugged random soldiers, not caring at all. Her heat raced with joy. It was over… the nightmare here was over. She'd be going home soon… and David Malucci would no longer be a prisoner of war.

The prisoners ate well that night, as did the rest of the camp. There was no more need to hoard supplies for hard times. They ate and drank in each other's happiness, thankful to be alive, yet by now feeling remorse for those who didn't make it. 

Dave approached Luka, still smiling with joy. "So where will you go now?" 

Luka shrugged. "I don't know. Somewhere." 

"Then you come with me to see my country?"

"I don't know. I should go home… but Italy sounds lovely." 

"We can eat tomatoes!" Dave joked. 

Luka laughed. "I'd like that. But I think I've been away from home too long. I need to go back, if I have a home to go back to." 

"What do you mean?" 

"The war may be over," Doug spoke up. "But now we are lost. Germany suffered greatly. We've been bombed mercilessly. If my family is still alive, I will go to them. If not… I'm moving in with you, Luka!" The two men laughed, having to yell to hear each other in the noise of jubilation around them. 

That night John and Benton listened to the radio, knowing that the speeches they heard that night marked a turning point in history. The two men wrote quickly on paper. 

"What you tellin' Anna?" 

"That I love her and will be home soon. What are you telling Cleo?" 

Peter grinned. "Now that ain't none of your business, boy, is it?" 

The both laughed, so happy to be alive, so happy to return to the ones they loved.

Jing-Mei entered the medical tent to get her sweater, only to find Elizabeth trying to hide her sobs. "Lizzie, what's wrong?" 

"Oh, nothing…"

"Lizzie," her voice was kind as she sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulder. "It's all right. I'm your friend, you can tell me anything. We've been through hell together."

"Oh, Jing-Mei!" Elizabeth sobbed as she cried onto Chen's shoulder. "I'm pregnant!" 

Jing-Mei didn't know what to say. She struggled for words. "Um… Lizzie… that's a good thing. The war is over now, you and Mark can go home and get married properly."

"Yes, but my child will have a cripple for a father!"

"Now Elizabeth, you mustn't think like that! Mark is perfectly fine now. He's lucky to be alive… and he has you. Imagine if he didn't. He'd be lost."

Elizabeth puled away and looked at Jing-Mei. "But I don't want a crippled husband… everything was supposed to be perfect…what will my mother think?"

"When she sees the love between you two she'll know that you are meant for each other. Don't let it bother you so much." She tried to sound friendly even though the fact that Lizzie wouldn't let go of the whole "normal" husband deal was angering her. For God's sake, he was lucky to have survived that operation and she'd always thought Elizabeth to be a nonjudgmental person. Maybe it was her changing hormones now that she knew she was pregnant. 

"Don't let it bother me?! Jing-Mei, he only has one leg!" 

"For God's sake Elizabeth! Learn to count your blessings!" 

"Count my blessings?! I'm pregnant and my fiancée only has one leg!"

"At least he's alive!" 

Elizabeth's face was full of contempt and she looked away, her angry mind brewing. "So. Are you improving your Italian?" 

Jing-Mei looked startled. "What do you mean?" 

"There's rumors going around about you and one of the prisoners. The Italian one."

"What kind of rumors?"

"He was in your tent last night, wasn't he?"

"We met in the Medical tent because he's my patient!" 

"Well, then. Whatever you want to think. But let's just say that I wouldn't go around bragging about it, if I were you." 

"Elizabeth!" 

"I always knew you were trouble! Now you're… you're in love with a fascist sympathizer! You can't possibly tell me that my longing for a two-legged husband is worse than that!"

"Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound?!"

"How ridiculous I sound?! I'm not the one sleeping with Nazis!"

Jing-Mei snapped. "He's not a Nazi! None of them are! The German soldier Carol treated didn't even know about the concentration camps. David has never even heard Hitler speak!"

"So his name's David, is it?"

"You're missing the point! We weren't fighting a war against who we were told we were! All the boys in Italy are made to fight! Boys in Germany join up for food! Don't you understand? It's not about Hitler! It's not about the Nazis or Mussolini! It's about people being manipulated, taken advantage of!" 

"Like that prisoner took advantage of you?" 

"He didn't Lizzie! I love him!" as soon as it was out she regretted it. Lizzie's tear-stained face looked up at her in shocked silence. 

Jing-Mei was crying now, too. However know that Lizzie knew the rumors were true, she felt her heart go out to the young Asian woman. "You know," she spoke quietly as Jing-Mei tried to quiet her sobs. "We aren't supposed to become involved without patients, much less an enemy prisoner."

"You think I don't know that?" her voice cracked in pain. "It just happened. I couldn't control it. But it doesn't matter now- the war is over." 

"But they are still our prisoners." 

"Won't we let them go?"

"Eventually, yes. We're going into Austria tomorrow, then down into Italy. We'll be picked up in Venice, then take a ship that will stop at Bari to stock up on supplies." 

"Why Venice?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "Army's orders. Don't ask me their logic, 'cause I'd say they didn't have any."

Jing-Mei wiped the tears from her face. "When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow afternoon." Elizabeth clutched Jing-Mei's hand. "I'm sorry… for what I said." 

"It's all right… just don't tell, okay?"

Elizabeth made a cross across her chest. "Promise."

A/N: It's here guys! _Band of Brothers_ is on tonight! Yippee! Well… please review, when you do it lets me know that people are still reading my story and gives me much inspiration to keep writing and post more often. I'm trying as hard as I can, guys! Love ya!


	10. Chapter 10

Jing-Mei looked out at the humbled villages they passed as stood on the deck of the ship that was taking her and many others from her camp to Bari

Jing-Mei looked out at the humbled villages they passed as stood on the deck of the ship that was taking her and many others from her camp to Bari. The people who looked back at her would only do so for a second before casting their glances back down to the ground or their work. The air was so warm and the sea was so fragrant. She wished they could stay longer. It was such a nice change to the cold of Germany and France. So this was where David was from? What an absolutely lovely country! She smiled, imagining what she would say to him once she saw him again. Now that the war was over, she was sure that their love could fully blossom without the constraints of society. A breeze lightly tousled her hair and she breathed in the deep smells of life around her. The afternoon sun shone off the sea, and she was so absorbed in its beauty that she didn't notice the pain and sorrow emanating from land, or the distasteful looks being cast in the direction of her ship.

She wondered if she and David would get a chance to visit his country before she had to ship out once more. Right now all she wanted was to be in his arms, to feel his embrace and no longer fear the world. She wouldn't let herself imagine life without him. He was below decks, with the rest of the prisoners from this part of the world. They'd dock in Bari in about a half hour, and come to shore to stretch and find a place to spend the night other than the ship, if they like. Some Americans who'd been fighting in Italy were to board, along with supplies, which would take a while. They'd leave again by seven in the morning. 

She planned on finding Dave when they came ashore. 

The room stunk. Dave scowled. It was disgusting. Why did they have to stay down there? They should be set free, the war was over. Luka had somehow managed to fall asleep amidst the noise and stench. He looked up at the Italian-American guard who was annoyingly chomping at a wad of gum and absorbed in his magazine. He couldn't wait to get back on land, to see him mother again, his grandmother… and Jing-Mei. He couldn't wait to see her again… yet didn't know when it would be possible. He was still being treated like a prisoner. Yet his heart was elated. The war was over. He could go home and live like he did before Mussolini. Before he knew such fear. 

John Carter and Peter Benton stepped out onto land. Boy, did it feel good to be on steady ground! Neither knew how they'd survive the journey back to the states. They saw Elizabeth helping Mark down another ramp. He looked good considering what he'd been through. John was excited as he heard music wafting in the air toward them. Celebrations. Now that's what he liked best about being a returning vet. There'd be plenty of parties to go to… besides the fact that he lived. He felt his heart sink a little when he remembered that he had prison duty. Both he and Benton were in charge of the buggers. At least there were only four of them. Three Italians and a Croatian. Not that they'd try anything, the war was over. 

He and Benton flanked the prisoners as they exited. 

"Hey!"

John looked up to see another young American running towards them. 

"You with the 57th?"

"Yeah."

"I'm supposed to help you guys… with the prisoners." 

"All right, what's your name Jerry. Jerry White." 

"Well, Jerry, you can start by tying your bootlaces."

The heavyset young man looked down. "Oh, right, sorry Sir."

Carter was supposed to find a shelter with one of the locals or a tavern to keep he and the prisoners in overnight. He nodded to Benton who was waiting impatiently and they set off. 

Dave swiveled his head around, trying to find Jing-Mei. He couldn't see her through the throngs of people at the harbor and was continuously being told to move on by the Americans. 

From her position of the deck Jing-Mei searched the crowds for Dave. She though she saw Carter for a split second before he disappeared into the crowd again. 

"Miss?"

An extremely lanky young man stood behind her. 

"Yes?" 

"I'm looking for Lieutenant Carter, have you perhaps seen him?"

"Why?" 

The young man looked terrified. He extended a telegram with a shaky hand. "It says here that Lieutenant Carter is in charge of the prisoners-" 

Scanning the contents of the telegram she quickly snatched it from his grasp. It was an urgent dispatch from the general, stating that all prisoners of the southern European hemisphere were to be emancipated. "Thank you, Sir, I'll make sure he gets it." 

"Are you sure Miss?"

"Yes, I know Lieutenant Carter personally and see that he receives it right away."

"Thank you, Miss," the nervous wreck of a soldier looked overjoyed to be relieved of such a task and trotted off. She smiled inside as she made her way to the unloading ramp to find Carter. 

Dave was in shock. He looked to his left, then to his right. Everywhere he saw destruction. His stomach sickened. Burned out buildings, shattered windows, robbed stores. He was in a truck once more, heading South West for a reported tavern that had been recently overrun by American soldiers. He couldn't keep the disgust from his face. The same Goddamn Americans who were responsible for this. He saw his country before him raped and charred, its people beaten and woeful. 

His heart skipped a beat when he thought he saw someone he recognized. It was the Widow Linguicci. She watched his head snap towards her as they drove by, but didn't acknowledge that she recognized him. She had been an old friend of his grandmother's. She had to have known who he was. He watched her until she disappeared. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He exchanged a foul glance with Luka, who also disapproved of the destruction around them. 

Dave held his breath as they passed a burnt road sign that he recognized. My God… they were entering his village… 

He frantically glanced about at the pillaged homes and stores around him. The stench of charred wood filled the air. Black wood. Burnt wood. Destruction… his grandmother… hit mother! He suddenly felt the urge to run, run to where he knew his home was. He glanced about frantically, noting where the Americans were. He would do it. He had to do it. He just would wait a little bit longer. Until they were more near the sea… 

It took a few seconds for the Americans to notice he had done it. Luka looked on in shock. Dave had leapt out of the bed of the truck and now ran as fast as he could, trying not to fall and praying that he wouldn't be shot in the back. 

"Stop the truck! Stop the damn truck!" Benton was trying to stand and steady his rifle. 

"Damn!" John slowed. "Shit!" He looked up to his right and saw Benton aiming at the young Italian. "Forget about it, Peter. The fucking war's over. I'll go get him." John leapt out of the driver's seat and began to run in pursuit. Benton hopped out after him. "You watch the rest of 'em!" Benton pointed a finger at the startled Jerry. 

"Ma.. ma… me?" 

"Yes you! Damn foo! White people…" damn it was hard to run in uniform. 

David Malucci's lungs were burning. He skidded to a halt. The trail by the cliff had been blown out… which way, which way?! The forest! He turned and ran into the groove of trees. 

"Stop! Damnit!" he heard the Americans behind him. He had to hurry.

His thighs and calves were on fire. His throat burned, yet he kept on running. He was no longer running to get away from the Americans. He was running to get to his mother, dying to see her again. Dying to see the love in her eyes, the touch of his grandmother's hands. He tripped once and ripped his pants but got right back up, ignoring the pain that radiated from his knee. 

He was running on shale now. He knew he was close to home. He burst out of the woods and down the path that he and his mother used to take when going to look for his father. Up, up, his legs hurt as he climbed toward his house, and then froze, his lungs heaving.

There was rubble and charred wood. Broken stones and the stench of death marked where his house had once been.

"Mamá!" he yelled, not expecting a response from the rubble. He fell to his knees, overcome with pain as he noticed two unmarked graves in the distance. He couldn't cry. He was too in too much shock and pain to cry. 

John and Peter entered from the opposite side, slowing their jog. "Damn that boy can run!" Peter panted. 

Dave looked up when he heard them approach, watching their American faces as they scanned the rubble. American. American. American. 

John was slowly approaching, sensing what was going on. Dave watched as he came nearer. His foot crunched a dead tomato plant as he walked over where his mother's garden once flourished. And something snapped inside of him. A rage that he had never felt before took control of his body. He stayed in his kneeling position, waiting for the enemy to approach. His blood pumped darkness throughout his body. Closer. Closer. That's it. He slowly looked up into John's face. 

In that split second John the darkness that filled the young Italian's eyes and immediately recognized it as a threat to his life. He quickly began to back up, but it was too late. Dave screamed as he lunged at him, his woeful hatred giving him strength. He knocked the unprepared American to the ground and grabbed his neck, squeezing as hard as he could. It was sonly a matter of seconds before Benton came to his friend's aide, hitting him in the head with the butt of his rifle, knocking him off John. He lay on the ground, stunned for a moment as John recovered, now also filled with anger. He leapt on top of Dave and delivered him a sharp blow to the face. Maybe it was the hatred that filled him, or the extreme randomness of it all, but Dave, despite the pain in his skull, clouted John back, sending the older man back onto the rubble and lunging for his neck once more.

Benton had heard a shout and tuned away when it appeared that his friend had the upper hand and didn't see Dave retaliate and pin John to the ground once more. As he choked the man he though sinisterly that he was righting the death of his family. Righting all that he had been through. Righting all that his beautiful country had been through. Righting all the bloodshed the world had been through in the past five years. 

However as Carter felt his life begin to slip away from him he was overrun by an instinctive and primal source of survival, giving him a burst of strength he unsheathed his knife and managed to throw the Italian off of him. 

He held Dave down, drew back his elbow, and swung with all his might as he struggled to breathe. He felt his weapon sink in satisfactorily, hitting muscle and organ alike. His lip bled from being struck earlier. He drew the blade out of the young man's body and prepared to strike again, seeing the shock on the Italian's face he sneered with sinister satisfaction. 

"Nooooo!!!" A woman shrieked from behind. Benton held back Jing-Mei who had just arrived. 

John didn't hear her. He couldn't hear her. He sunk the blade in a second time, hearing his victim's escaping breath as the blade sunk in. Dave struggled to breathe; blood trickled from his mouth, bubbling up from his now ruptured stomach. John plunged in the knife a final time before he was violently thrown out of the way by someone. As he fell to the ground painfully he was surprised to see little Jing-Mei as his attacker. She knelt by Dave, her lower lip trembling, not knowing what to do. She scooped up his head with one arm and saw a distant gave in his eyes. "David? David!" He slowly moved to look at her, struggling to breathe. His eyes showed his slight smile as her face came into focus. "Oh God, David…" she looked at the red seeping out of his body from everywhere. " can't loose you… I can't!" She felt his body shudder violently, then somehow realized that his mind was no focused on death. She glanced back at the two graves she had noticed earlier, then back to Dave. 

"You are strong, but you must join them now," tears streamed down her face. "Join them now." Her smile was as mournful as it was heavenly to the dying soldier. He couldn't speak, but weakly smiled at her, for he could hear them now. He could hear his grandmother and mother calling to him. Could see his father waving from his boat on the golden, twilight-lit sea. He tried to lift his hand to wave back, but it slowly fell to his side as his last breath gave out, and he drifted away into the whims of Elysium.

Jing-Mei let his body go limp, and lay him back down, knowing that he would want her to be strong, she stopped her sniffling, sat up straight, and took in as deep a breath as he shaky larynx would allow. She turned an accusatory glance to John, who was now dusting himself off. Peter kept his distance. She rose and slowly approached the disdain in her eyes evident.

"I-I was trying to protect myself, he attacked me, he-" his mumblings were cut off when she thrust a telegram, now stained red with Dave's blood, into his hand, and strode away with the grace she had been taught.

John stood on the edge of the cliff, a few yards away from where he and Dave had fought. In the crook of his arm he held the ashes of the Italian soldier. The wind blew and the sunset cast golden rays on the faces of himself and the stoic Luka and Jing-Mei. He reached inside the metal can and grabbed a pinch of the ashes. He'd killed many men, but never one he got to know so well, as little as he knew about the young Italian. He let the ashes blow into the sea. Then Jing-Mei stepped forward and with an affectionate smile looked into the sunset. "I will never forget you, David Malucci, and will carry you with me always. You showed me what it feels like to live, and I will be forever grateful to you." She tossed the ashes into the wind. 

Luka took the container from John. He scowled for a moment, trying not to cry, then looked up into the ceaseless dance of the sea. He gracefully emptied the rest of the ashes into the breeze. "Now you are free from this nightmare. You are free from your life. You are with your grandmother now, with your father and your mother." A single tear slid down his cheek and Jing-Mei whimpered softly as she stifled her emotions. 

The last thing Dave had seen in life was Jing-Mei's loving face and compassionate eyes, but his grandmother was calling him, and as his sold turned away from life he saw golden sunset, and his mother with outstretched arms. He knew that all he had to do was hug her, and look into her kind eyes, and all the pain would go away. All the suffering. All the torment. My mother's eyes. My mother's eyes.

A/N: Hey guys! I'm sorry, yet this concludes _My Mother's Eyes_… even though I can't bring myself to write "the end." I've immensely enjoyed all of your support you've given me. You don't know what valuable feed back you offer. Please feel free to tell me what you think overall, now that you've read the whole thing. Favorite parts, inconsistencies, anything that stood out, what you liked/disliked, my ears are open! 

I hope that by reading this piece you have a better understanding of the sacrifices the men and women of WWII made to give you this world, so that you could sit on your butt and read this right now. I know I will never forget what they've done for us, and hope you won't either. We owe so much to them. Sorry about Dave… but it was the way it had to be. Thank you for your time, and I hope it's been worth your while. 

~Duma


	11. Song

Hey guys…… 

Hey guys……. This isn't another chapter but rather a song that really goes well with this story… and whenever I listen to it evokes the same emotions. It's absolutely gorgeous and if you haven't yet had the opportunity to listen to it please make an effort to.

Disclaimer: I don't own _Pearl Harbor_ or any of Faith Hill's songs, for that matter. They are the sole possession on her, her record company and their associates. I'm making no money from this. It's just for fun. Please don't sue me…… I have no money anyway.

"There You'll Be" from _Pearl Harbor _
    
    
    When I think back on these times
    And the dreams we left behind
    I'll be glad 'cause I was blessed
    To get to have you in my life
    When I look back on these days
    I'll look and see your face
    You were right there for me
    In my dreams I'll always see you soar above the sky
    In my heart there will always be a place for you
    For all my life I'll keep a part of you with me
    And everywhere I am, there you'll be
    Well you showed me how to feel
    Feel the sky was in my reach
    And I always will remember all the strength you gave to me
    Your love made me make it through
    Oh, I owe so much to you
    You were right there for me
    In my dreams I'll always see you soar above the sky
    In my heart there will always be a place for you
    For all my life I'll keep a part of you with me
    And everywhere I am, there you'll be
    'Cause I always saw in you my light, my strength
    And I want to thank you now
    For all the ways you were right there for me
    You were right there for me
    For always 


End file.
